Fearless
by Mosteyn
Summary: Sybil has some important news to share with her family. My contribution to the S/T Valentine Fic exchange for the wonderful Piperholmes ! Now with an additional chapter !
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: ** Here is my Valentine's fic exchange for the lovely **Piperholmes**. Piper's prompt wanted to hear more about how Sybil's family would react to her having another baby soon after the first. So here we are - not my normal universe; Tom is the agent for the estate, Sybil has returned to nursing and they live in the agent's house. Their daughter Sybbie was born almost a year ago when this story starts._

_And because I am rubbish at keeping to anything like a word count this is in two parts - part two WILL be up tomorrow !_

* * *

><p>"I won't be able to get back for lunch today - what time is your shift again ?" Tom was hurriedly tying his tie in the mirror, flicking the ends over with a practiced move to form a neat knot which he settled at his throat.<p>

"Two o'clock," Sybil answered, sipping the cup of tea he'd brought her. "I won't be back till after nine. I'll drop Sybbie off at Downton before I go. Can you pick her up ?"

He nodded.

"Of course." He turned to pick up his jacket. "I'll see you when you get back then. I've got to go, love, I'm late as it is." He strode over to the bed, gave her a quick kiss and was gone.

The minute she heard the front door slam shut, she put the saucer on the bedside table, swung out of bed and ran across the landing to the bathroom, where she promptly threw up.

* * *

><p>It was a cool day for June, so she'd helped her daughter into a cardigan her grandmother had knitted and sent over from Dublin, and ignored her protests as she put her in the pram. She was just starting to walk and liked to show off her new skill, but her mother needed to go to Downton village this morning, far too far for Sybbie's little legs.<p>

But frustration of the pram was worth it. Twenty minutes later, Sybbie was holding court in Dr Clarkson's waiting room. The village had got over its shock at seeing the Earl's youngest daughter pushing a pram about and had come to appropriate her as one of their own. And they they took the little Miss Margaret Branson to their hearts. Not that anyone ever called her Margaret, Sybil thought as she watched Mrs Drew hold her hand and walk her slowly round the room, solemnly inspecting every waiting patient. Even Papa called her Sybbie nowadays. It had started with Tom insisting that the baby was her mother in miniature, joking that he now had two Sybils. The baby was her father's "little Sybil'. "My little Sybil" soon morphed into "My little Sybbie" and became simply Sybbie. Sybil picked up the habit despite herself and her mother picked it up with enthusiasm, so by the time she was four months old, she was Sybbie to the entire family and staff. Only Robert and the Dowager persisted in calling her by her given name and then by Christmas, even Robert had cracked.

Dr Clarkson, however, called her Miss Margaret and reassured Sybil that the rash on her arm was nothing to worry about. It was only then that Sybil admitted to him that Sybbie's rash wasn't the real reason she had come to see him after all.

* * *

><p>"Sybil ?" There was a light touch on her arm. She looked up to see Isobel standing next to her, smiling.<p>

"You were miles away," she said. "That was the third time I called you before I got your attention."

Sybil stopped and put the brake on the pram.

"I'm sorry, Cousin Isobel, I was in a world of my own."

"And with this lovely little one, who can blame you," replied Isobel, leaning over to stroke Sybbie's cheek. Sybbie gave her a wide smile in return and tried to grab her finger.

"I saw you coming out of the surgery. I hope she's alright ?"

She forced herself to smile.

"Yes, she's fine. She has a bit of a rash that I just wanted to get checked."

"It seems incredible that she's nearly a year old already. She'll be walking properly before too long, then you won't be able to ….. Sybil ?"

Isobel looked at her young friend closely. Her normal warm smile and engaging manner was absent. If anything, she looked dazed.

"Listen," said Isobel, "I was just on my way back home. Why don't you come with me and have some tea - if you don't have to be back home, of course ? I feel I haven't seen you and Sybbie for ages."

Sybil hesitated, but Isobel's frank manner won her over. She smiled and nodded.

"Thank you," she said. "That would be lovely."

* * *

><p>Sybbie sat contentedly on the floor of Crawley House's drawing room with one of Matthew's old toys stuffed in her mouth, whilst her mother sat on the sofa balancing a cup of tea on her lap; the same sofa, Isobel remembered, where she's tended to Sybil's wound after the count in Ripon before the war. Matthew had told her the following day of Branson's concern, curious enough to be noteworthy. I suppose that was the start of it, she thought - easy enough to see in hindsight, but unthinkable at the time. And yet here they were a few years later, the same woman sat with the chauffeur's daughter at her feet. It made her smile every time she thought of it.<p>

They talked about the hospital. After what had happened to Sybil, Robert had found the money for a small maternity wing; whether out of thankfulness or guilt, Isobel wasn't sure. It was to be opened soon and she was in her element, leading the board in interviewing new staff. She'd been particularly impressed with a young female doctor from Birmingham. Needless to say Violet wasn't.

"I was disappointed in your grandmother," she said. "As a mother, I would have thought that even she could see the advantage of a female gynaecologist. I don't believe for one minute that women wouldn't trust her…..Sybil, dear, I do wish you would tell me what was wrong. I might be able to help."

Caught, she retrieved her practiced smile and started to deny anything was wrong, but Isobel was having none of it.

"I know you, Sybil. I've watched you grow up. You've hardly been here this morning."

Sybil said nothing. merely looking at the cup in her lap.

"I know that you don't always feel you can share things with your family. But I want you to know that I will never judge you. Anything you say is safe with me."

"I know that," Sybil said hastily. They sat in silence whilst the ticking of the clock seemed to get louder and louder. Finally, she sighed.

"I'm pregnant," she said. "Dr Clarkson just confirmed it."

Isobel said nothing, her encouraging smile becoming fixed, giving nothing away.

"That's….wonderful news," she said eventually.

"Is it ?" said Sybil, "after what happened last time ? I don't think anyone else will agree with you."

"What about you ? Are you pleased ?"

Sybil leant forward and placed the cup carefully on a table, brushing her hand over her daughter's head as she did so.

"I want to be. I'd love another baby. But - " she stopped. "Dr Clarkson said there is more chance of the toxaemia returning with a second pregnancy. But he still says there is far more chance that it won't and I'll be fine. It's not a death sentence - but I can't help thinking everyone else will think it is."

"Well, that's understandable, in the circumstances."

"I'm not sure I can cope with six months of my family worrying about me every minute of the day. I just want them to be happy about it."

"Tom will be happy, won't he ?"

Sybil looked back her with something very like guilt, she thought.

"I'm not sure," she said. "This wasn't supposed to happen…". She stopped, blushing furiously. "After Sybbie was born, Dr Clarkson spoke to us about the risks involved in another pregnancy, and that we might want to…to think about it. So I paid a visit to Mrs Stopes' clinic in London."

Isobel gave her wry, complicit smile.

"Ah. I'd heard her methods were not altogether reliable."

"It seems not," Sybil said sadly. "It'll be a shock for Tom. He didn't want me to go through another pregnancy until we were absolutely sure we were ready for another baby. You see, we're both so happy with Sybbie for now," she said, reaching down again to stroke her daughter's head. "I just don't want him to worry."

"He nearly lost you, Sybil. Of course he'll worry."

Sybil sighed.

"I know he will."

* * *

><p>The afternoon shift at the hospital was brisk and by the time she had arrived back at the agent's cottage, she was exhausted. Tom had already collected Sybbie from the nursery at Downton and put her straight to bed, and was now sat at his desk in the study reviewing the last year's barley yields. He smiled when he heard the front door open, emerging into the hall in his stockinged feet to give her a warm smile and a kiss. They shared a simple supper and a nightcap, then headed to bed.<p>

She could feel his eyes following her as she moved around their bedroom, shimmying out of her uniform and underwear and into her nightdress. He pretended to return to his book as she sat at her dressing table to brush her hair, but she could see his eyes flicker from the book to her body in the mirror. She caught his eye as she rose, her sly gaze holding his with a promise as she wandered to her side of the bed. He put the book down as she climbed in and turned to face her, smiling expectantly, his hand sliding up her thigh under her nightdress and coming to rest on her hip. As he leant down to kiss her, his hand settled firmly on the warm skin of her waist and pulled her towards him.

"Tom…." she sighed as he moved down to start kissing her throat.

"God, you're beautiful," he muttered. "Have you ….you know…" He looked up at her, still unable to ask her outright. Here was her chance.

"We won't be needing that for a while," she said.

"Hmmm ?" he asked in between gentle kisses to her jaw.

"I'm pregnant."

His eyes widened and he sat up abruptly.

"You can't be."

She nodded.

"I saw Dr Clarkson today and he confirmed it."

"But…..that…that _thing _that you got from the clinic….."

"…..didn't work," she said sadly.

He stared at her as the implications of what she had just said started to sink in. He swallowed hard. She scrabbled up out of the blankets to kneel beside him and put her hand on his arm.

"It doesn't mean its going to happen again."

"Dr Clarkson said there was more risk in a second pregnancy,"

"Yes, but it still a _small _risk. There's every chance that it will be fine."

"You don't know that. Oh God," he muttered, rubbing his forehead, "I can't go through all that again."

"You won't have to."

"You can't know that !"

"Tom, darling….."

"You stopped breathing, Sybil. You went blue ! Right there in front of me !"

There was nothing she could say to that.

"I thought you were dead."

"But I wasn't."

He sighed in frustration and looked away. They'd had this conversation before. He knew there was no way he could make her understand what it had felt like to watch her writhe, gasping for breath as her lips turned deathly dark. That when she stopped thrashing about, the fleeting moment of relief was dashed when he realised she was so still. The terror that had set in didn't disappear when she sudden took in a huge gulp of air and started to gasp, desperately catching her breath. It had taken him several minutes to realise that she was still with him. Sybil knew nothing of that. All she remembered was waking up several days later when her mind had cleared. All she knew was that she'd survived.

"We should have taken Dr Clarkson's advice," he said, flushing at the memory of the doctor discussing the implications of Sybil's toxaemia on their intimate life with terrifying frankness, whilst he squirmed on his chair like a teenager in a confessional.

"Dr Clarkson said that the only way to be sure to avoid another pregnancy was abstaining." She waited patiently for him to look up, smiling when he did so. "And that's not a real marriage. We can't live the rest of our lives in fear of something that might never happen."

"I can't bear the thought of being without you."

"Darling," her voice was low, reassuring. "It won't be the same this time."

"How can you possibly …."

"Because we'll do things differently right from the start. We know there's a risk, so we'll minimise it. Dr Clarkson is going to find a specialist in toxaemia. I'll see them as soon as possible and do whatever they think is necessary. And I'll have this baby in hospital - and I don't mean the cottage hospital either. I mean a district hospital - York, or Leeds, or London if I have to."

He sat regarding her mutely. She'd obviously thought this through.

"I know this wasn't what we'd expected. But this baby is here now and we can't do anything about it. I'm going to do everything I can to make sure its going to be alright. And I need you to help me."

He looked as if he was about to cry. She reached up to stroke his cheek and he gathered her to him, holding her tight and burying his face in her hair.

"I don't want to lose you."

"I know. And I don't want to leave you and Sybbie."

He tightened his hold and she could feel his heart beating against her chest, a little faster than usual. They stayed like that for a long while, without words, trying to capture this small moment of warmth and safety and make it last.

"When will you tell your family ?" he asked, eventually.

She turned in his arms, shifting herself so she could look up at him.

"When everything is settled. I want it all arranged before we tell them."

"They won't like it."

"No. They won't."

* * *

><p>It took three weeks for Dr Clarkson to find the leading specialist in eclampsia, who turned out not to be located in London, but in the rather less glamourous location of Jessop's Women's Hospital in Sheffield. He made an appointment and all three of them travelled down to see him. His prescription was constant and careful monitoring along with bed rest and hospitalisation in the last stages of her pregnancy, assuming all was well. He would come and see her regularly in Downton, and travel to York to deliver her when the time came. Sybil was impressed with him - his manner was kind, but down to earth. On hearing she was a nurse, he became easier and less guarded; peppering his consultation with medical jargon that meant little to Tom. He could see that it had relaxed Sybil, moving what was happening to her out of the personal and into the professional sphere. She trusted this man, which left him no option but to trust him as well.<p>

They were due to dine at Downton that evening, taking the baby with them and staying overnight. The whole family would be there.

Getting changed for dinner, she pulled out one of the gowns that she left hanging in the wardrobe of her her old bedroom precisely for the purpose. It was already a little tight around the waist. It really would have to be tonight. If she waited any longer to tell her family, she would reach the point where it became unnecessary.

"I'll do it once we've all gone through," she said, holding her hands folded in front of her in a gesture he'd seen so often when she'd lived here. Nowadays it was a sign she was unsure of herself and was unconciously falling back on her atavistic ladylike behaviour.

"I'd rather tell Mama and Mary first. I think in the end they'll be more pragmatic than Papa. Once they know we've taken care of everything they'll be happier about it."

"What about your grandmother ?"

"Granny ?" She sighed. "Granny will be…..Granny, I suppose. You know what she's like. If Mama gets remotely upset, Granny will put it down to her being American and disapprove."

"I don't understand your Grandmother. You'd think she'd have come round to your mother by now - especially as she saved the estate and your father's happy."

'Oh, she has. She just doesn't want anyone to know that. I think she feels that approving of Mama would be letting the side down."

He laughed softly and offered her a smile tinged with sadness.

"That's something that seems to run in the family."

* * *

><p>Sometimes Sybil loved family dinners, with their reassurance that nothing but the usual topics of conversation would be broached by people who had been around this table every night for as long as she could remember. But just as frequently she found the same things irksome and parochial. Tonight, they made it easy for her to switch off and worry about what she needed to tell her family, without it being obvious. She could drift in and out of conversations about this year's fair at Thirsk, the scandalous behaviour of new Master of the Hunt and the trials and tribulations of various tenants without raising any suspicions. Only Tom, at the other end of the table, was aware anything was untoward and his eyes would flicker to hers as he listened respectfully to the Dowager Countess. Finally, mercifully, dinner was over and her mother signalled for the ladies to rise and leave the men to their port. Tom caught her eye as she got up, concern evident in his face as he gave her an encouraging smile. As she turned to follow her mother, she caught Edith watching her, brows furrowed and chin lifted in an an obvious question. Sybil ignored her and hurried to catch her mother up.<p>

Edith waited until Carson had served everyone coffee, then tackled her sister in the least tactful way possible.

"What are you and Tom hiding from us ?"

Sybil froze, her hands still, holding the cup firmly in the saucer.

"Whatever do you mean ?"

"The way you were looking at each other. You two are up to something,"

"Oh Edith, don't pester her. It's hard enough to have any privacy around here as it is."

"I wasn't pestering !" Edith looked offended, more because she suspected an obscure slight on her spinsterhood. _Hard enough when you're married and have things worth keeping private_, Mary had meant.

"And what would Sybil be doing that she would want to keep us in the dark about ?" enquired Violet. "She and Branson have always taken great pleasure in telling us all about their latest….adventures."

"Oh Granny !" Sybil rolled her eyes.

"If Sybil and Tom have something they want us to know, I'm sure they'll tell us in their own good time," said Cora, leaning over to place a smoothing hand on her daughter's knee. "Let's leave them alone."

Sybil gave her mother a guilty smile.

"Actually," she began, "there is something I want to tell you." She felt four pairs of eyes turn to look at her. Even Carson looked up from the decanters.

"I'm going to have another baby."

Cora gasped, her hand flying up to her mouth. Sybil gave them a bright smile, trying to make her audience accept this as good news by sheer force of will.

"So soon ? It's not even a year since….." Cora trailed off. An uncomfortable silence descended.

"But - darling, we thought you'd decided to wait ?" said Mary, visibly shocked.

"Yes, well…" Sybil trailed off.

"Are you sure ?" asked her mother.

"Yes," she nodded. Cora looked away, distraught. "Mama -it's not going to be like last time…"

"But Dr Clarkson said there was a higher risk of toxaemia in a second pregnancy !"

"But its still a small risk. And I've seen a specialist - a specialist in toxaemia," she added as Cora's head whipped round in alarm. "Dr Clarkson found him. We went to see him yesterday. He'll come up and see me regularly and Dr Clarkson will monitor me every few days. Then when I'm five months, I'll be on best rest and spent the last month in York County hospital and give birth there."

"We ?" asked Violet.

"Myself, Tom and Dr Clarkson. Dr Clarkson wanted to discuss my case with him in person, seeing as he will be looking after my day-to-day care."

"Who is this doctor ?" asked Edith.

"Dr Levy. He works at the Jessop Women's hospital in Sheffield. He's made a study of toxaemia for several years and is well respected in the field."

"_Sheffield_ ?" asked Violet, horrified. "The only thing Sheffield is respected for is making forks !"

"Well, he is," said Sybil crossly. "And I liked him. He impressed Dr Clarkson too."

"Oh, well, if he has Dr Clarkson's seal of approval, then he must be St Luke himself,"

Sybil ignored her grandmother, turning instead to her stricken-looking mother. She reached over and took her hand.

"Please, Mama. Don't fret."

Cora took a deep breath and gave her daughter a small nod.

"No, you're right," she said, squeezing her hand. "We must be strong."

Whatever Sybil had been about to say next was interrupted by the appearance of her father.

"….all I am saying is that creation of a Northern Irish state is just protecting the Unionists. The majority of Ireland will have home rule. Anyway - lets not bore the ladies with our discussion. Cigar, Matthew ?"

Matthew nodded his assent as Tom split away from them and went to stand behind his wife, laying a tender hand upon her shoulder. One look at Cora told him that Sybil had given everyone her news.

"Everyone's very quiet," Robert remarked once Carson had served him his brandy. He caught sight of his wife still holding on to Sybil's hand.

"Is everything alright ?" he said, beginning to feel a little alarmed.

Cora swallowed.

"Sybil has something to tell us."

Sybil smiled at her father, once again determined to behave as if this was a happy event.

"Papa…..I'm pregnant."

"What ?" Robert put his brandy down with some force, making it wash up the sides of the glass like a high tide. It washed the smile off Sybil's face. She looked nervously at her mother.

"I'm going to have another baby." She felt Tom's grip on her shoulder tighten.

Her father turned away from her and grasped the mantlepiece for support.

"It's not even been a year since Sybbie was born. How can you be so irresponsible as to put us through all that again !"

"Robert !"

"Papa - please, just listen to me. I've seen a specialist….."

But Robert wasn't listening. He spun swiftly round and levelled his gaze at Tom, taking a step towards him. His nostrils flared.

"This is all your doing."

"What ?" replied Tom, genuinuely confused.

"Because you can't... control yourself, you've put my daughter in the gravest danger !"

"Papa !"

"If you were any sort of a man, you would have had the decency to leave her alone !"

"I say, Robert, that's going a bit far !" Matthew's reprimand fell in the shocked silence like a shell. Sybil was on her feet.

"If you must know, Papa, Tom was quite happy to abstain after Sybbie was born. It was me that wasn't."

"Good heavens, are we to be spared no detail ?" said Violet to no one in particular.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go to bed. I'm rather tired." And with that, Sybil stalked out of the room, throwing her father an unpleasant look and slamming the door behind her.

* * *

><p><em>There's more...tomorrow ! I just wanted to get this up tonight !<em>


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** As promised, part II. Not as edited as I would like but determined to get it out on time !

* * *

><p>The sound reverberated around the stunned silence in drawing room, until the clink of Carson putting down the decanter broke the spell. Simultaneously, Tom and Mary moved for the door.<p>

"Wait, Tom !" she called as he strode to follow his wife up the stairs. "Wait. Let me talk to her. She needs to see that Papa is just frightened. He doesn't mean what he says."

He turned and looked at her coldly.

"You'll forgive me if I do not agree with you on that point."

"Whether he meant it or not, he had no right to say it. I'm sorry, Tom."

"Yes. Well. That doesn't usually stop him."

She said nothing.

"Let me talk to Sybil, at least."

He sighed.

"Alright then. But she's breathing fire, so don't be surprised if you get burnt."

Mary nodded, then turned swiftly on her heel and ran up the stairs after her sister. Tom watched her go, then turned automatically to the library. But he was too angry to read, so he changed his tack and headed for the billiard room instead.

* * *

><p>She stood outside Sybil's room hesitantly for a few uncomfortable seconds. The soft sound of sobs could be heard through the door, and a particularly unladylike hiccup made her knock gently.<p>

"Sybil ? It's me."

Silence, followed by another hiccup.

"What do you want ?"

"Can I come in ?"

Another silence.

"Alright."

Mary gave a sigh of relief and opened the door.

Sybil was sat on the bed with her arms tightly wound around herself. Her nose and eyes were red. In one hand she grasped a large man's handkerchief - no doubt one of Tom's.

'Oh, darling !"

She hurried over to sit on the bed beside her and placed a hand on her back.

"Papa didn't mean it. He's just had a shock."

Sybil turned to her, the disapproval evident in her face.

"It was a despicable thing to say to Tom. Who does he think he is ?"

"He thinks he's your father."

"And that means he can insult my husband ?"

"Darling, he's just worried about you."

It was not the right thing to say. Sybil turned on her.

"How would you feel if he'd said that to Matthew ?"

She opened her mouth to reply, but stopped, imagining if it had been Matthew her father's wrath had been directed at, about herself. She folded her hands in her lap.

"Angry. I'd be angry. Just like you are."

Sybil turned to her in relief, her eyes filling with tears again.

"Thank you," she said. "Thank you for saying that."

They sat on the side of the bed in silence. Finally, Sybil said

"I know everyone's worried about what's going to happen. _I'm_ worried. I don't want to leave everyone - "

Mary looked up in alarm.

"- but I can't live half a life, have half a marriage because of something that might never happen."

"But so soon….."

Sybil looked a little embarrassed.

"We didn't expect this to happen."

Mary's gaze became questioning. Eventually, Sybil explained.

"I went to Mrs Stopes' clinic."

"Oh."

Sybil looked up at her sister, detecting something she couldn't be sure of in her tone. She waited, but Mary didn't elaborate.

"Well - what would you have done ?" she asked. "Could you have given Matthew up in that way, after only a year ?"

"Well, if my life depended on it…" her sister replied slowly

Sybil sighed in frustration.

"Mary - "

"…but no - I don't think I could."

* * *

><p>Matthew watched Robert follow Cora up the stairs and thought he should really follow, as Mary was probably back in their bedroom by now. But he hesitated, instead making his way to the billiard room. The door was ajar and from within he could hear the faint rumble of a billiard ball rolling over baize followed by the soft clack that meant it had hit its target. He pushed the door open - the room was in darkness save for the lamp over the billiard table casting the game into a pyramid of light. He could see his brother-in-law's torso emerge from the gloom as he stretched over the green cloth to cue up his next shot.<p>

"I thought I might find you in here,"

Tom didn't answer, apparently concentrating on making his play, sliding the cue back and forth over his fingers as he lined it up. Matthew wandered to the rack and picked out a cue, turning back to his brother-in-law as he nonchalantly chalked the tip. Tom took his shot, then stepped back into the dark to give Matthew the table.

"Robert will be sorry in the morning," he said, raising his elbow. "You know what he's like. He doesn't think things through."

A quiet sigh came out of the dark on the other side of the table as Matthew lined up his shot. Another red ball rolled into a pocket.

"I wouldn't do _anything _to put Sybil in danger"

"Of course you wouldn't. We all know that." Matthew straightened up and walked round the table. He could feel Tom hesitating, tapping the bottom of his cue against his boot. He made a meal out of his next shot, looking at it from several angles before bending down theatrically to eyeball the shot from the cushion.

"It wasn't supposed to happen."

Matthew stood up and leaned over the table.

"Sybil went to that clinic in London - you know, the one there was all the fuss about."

"Ah."

"The doctor said there's still a good chance everything will be alright this time. But -" he faltered. "Perhaps Lord Grantham is right."

The cue ball travelled slowly to the other end of the table and nestled itself amongst three other balls.

"But would you have been able to ?" asked Matthew, his face showing nothing but honest enquiry. "I'll be honest, I'm not sure I could if it had been Mary…not without it driving me mad. Not once we'd...Although, of course, we wouldn't have a choice, even with George. "

Tom was silent.

"I can't lose her, Matthew. Not now. Not after everything that's happened."

Matthew reached out and gripped his shoulder.

"Try not to worry, old chap. We'll help you look after her. We'll look after you both."

* * *

><p>Cora was already in bed with her book open when Robert opened the door from his dressing room. He could tell from the set of her mouth that she wasn't pleased.<p>

"I hope you're going to apologise to Tom tomorrow," she said without looking up. "That was a very _unpleasant _thing to say to him."

Robert sighed and sat heavily on his side of the bed.

"I will. Although I still hold him responsible."

"Why ? You heard Sybil."

He winced at being reminded of his daughter's honesty.

"Well then, in that case they are _both _being irresponsible."

"Robert, they're young and they're in love. It seems to me that you've forgotten what that is like, otherwise you'd realise what you are asking of them."

He turned to her, his fear evident in his eyes.

"We almost lost her last year. Is it so wrong of me to want her to be safe ?"

Cora smiled.

"Not at all, my darling. But we can't wrap her up in cotton wool. We may not like this, but she's made her choice and this is what has happened. All we can do is stand by her. And Tom."

"Hmphf."

He shed his dressing gown and climbed into bed beside her, switching the light off.

"They've found a doctor who specialises in toxaemia. He'll look after her."

"In London ?"

"No. Sheffield."

"Sheffield ?"

"Oh goodness, Robert. You sound just like your mother. This man is very respected physician. And if he is good enough for Sybil, then he is good enough for me. She is a nurse, after all."

He shuffled under the bedclothes in a disgruntled fashion, settling on his side.

"I just want the best for her. She's still my little girl."

"No, Robert," she said sadly, "she's not."

* * *

><p>After a last whiskey with Matthew, Tom abandoned the billiard room and wound his way up the stairs to Sybil's bedroom. The only light was from the single beside lamp on his side of the bed. She was lying on her side with her back to him, one bare arm flung over the top of the eiderdown.<p>

"Sybil ?"

No reply. Apparently, she was asleep.

He changed into his pyjamas quickly and slid in beside her, switching out the light. Darkness engulfed them. As he lay there, he could hear her breathing, regular and deep as she drifted further and further into sleep. Soon, he knew from experience, her mouth would fall open and she would start to snore. She moved in her sleep, drawing her legs up so the soles of her feet rested on his shins. She was warm and soft and _alive. _ And she was right. They couldn't let fear dictate their lives, for in the end it would separate them just as surely as the toxaemia almost had. Instead, he would take each day as it came and be thankful that she was there to share it with him.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:**I wasn't going to add another chapter to this because there is a chapter in my other story that is very similar - but then I thought, Oh why not ? So I hope its not too much the same

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><p>After a month of bed rest in York Dr Levy decided he wanted her transferred to his hospital in Sheffield, much to Tom's disappointment. Now, not only would he be allowed to see her just twice a week, but his journey time would be doubled as well. Matthew suggested he let Pratt take him, but Tom stubbornly refused to be ferried about by the man who had his old job. To everyone's surprise it was Robert who managed to knock some sense into him, saying caustically that he had no intention of his agent being found dead in a ditch from exhaustion - not to mention the worry it would cause Sybil. He insisted that Pratt drove him. For once, Tom had the sense not to argue.<p>

She'd had none of the symptoms that preceded Sybbie's birth apart from a little swelling of her fingers, but as the days counted down to her due date she could feel her family's mounting apprehension from Sheffield. It showed in Tom's relief when he caught sight of her at the far end of the ward every Wednesday night and wove itself around the words in her mother's regular letters. To make matters worse, the baby was overdue. She was a large as a whale and felt as ungainly and as helpless as one of those poor creatures fetched up on our shores by an unfriendly storm. Sybbie had remained a neat bump right up until her final weeks, but with this baby she's spread in all directions. Maternity clothes that had fitted perfectly with Sybbie strained over her stomach in the same way as her skin. Dr Levy said that the baby's size was a good sign, but she was simply too exhausted to take consolation from her discomfort. Neither did this baby seem to be in any hurry to come out. In the last week she had gone through anticipation, trepidation and impatience until finally she had simply ceased to care. The baby would come when it was ready and there was nothing she could do about it.

Back at Downton, the upcoming birth pervaded the house like a fog, dampening everything and marooning each member of the household in their own thoughts and fears. Tom worked all hours to distract his attention, only stopping to eat, sleep and spend time with his daughter. Matthew and Robert worried about him, but tying him to the house during the day where there was little he could do beside pace up and down and relive Sybbie's birth was not going to help. Cora was outwardly calm but apprehensive, whilst fear pushed Mary into uncharitable remarks. It earnt her an uncharacteristic rebuke from Matthew, which in turn made her silent and Matthew to go and visit his mother. Isobel put her faith in modern medicine and remained stalwartly optimistic. For once, Violet welcomed her rationalism. She herself put her faith not in medicine, Dr Levy, or even God - she simply refused to believe that fate would dare to be unkind to them again.

The Friday after the baby was expected, Tom spent all day in the estate office going the poorly kept accounts of some of their tenants - a job that Matthew knew he hated. He didn't join the family for lunch, seeming to forget about food altogether until Cora sent a sandwich over for him. He reappeared at teatime as Nanny was bringing Sybbie and George out onto the lawn to join the rest of the family. Sybbie squealed with delight at seeing him, even though she had seen him that morning.

"Dada !"

He swept her off her feet and bounced her enthusiastically on his arm.

"Hello sweetheart ! Have you been a good girl today ?"

She nodded vigorously.

"Gee-Gee," she explained.

"You've been on the rocking horse ?"

"She does enjoy it so, Mr Branson," smiled Nanny.

"Just like Sybil," sighed Cora, "she loved that rocking horse. Do you remember she used to plait its tail ?" she said, turning to Mary.

"And yet she was never a keen horsewoman. I don't think she found the real thing quite as obliging," said her sister.

Tom smiled, remembering Sybil insisting she was fond of Dragon in the midst of a litany of his faults. For a girl who'd grown up in the country, he had never had the impression that she really missed its traditional pursuits. Dragon had been retired when they left for Ireland and whilst Sybil would occasionally take Sybbie to see him, she'd not taken up her father's offer of a new mount.

Sybbie was growing impatient with the adult chatter and started to writhe in his lap, demanding to be put down. A flurry of hands went to the table to push delicate china out of her reach, but today Sybbie seemed more interested in her cousin than what might be on the adults plates. She wandered over to stand beside her Aunt Mary and let her her hand rest on George's chubby knee. George dribbled in reply, sending Sybbie into a fit of giggles.

Tom had half an eye on his little girl as he spoke to his mother-in-law, so he almost missed the sight of Carson travelling across the lawn a speed that suggested his sense of urgency was at war with his sense of dignity and his dignity was losing. He was out of breath when he stopped next to Tom's chair.

"Excuse me, my Lord, but the hospital has just rung. Lady Sybil has gone into labour."

"Oh God, it's started." Tom went pale and was half out of his chair. "Is she all right ?"

"That's the only information they gave, I'm afraid, Mr Branson."

"Right. Sybbie darling, Daddy's got to go and see ...Daddy's got to go to work," he said, feeling it was unwise to remind his daughter her mother was absent. But Sybbie wasn't listening.

"Sybbie -"

"Don't worry, Tom," said Mary, "We'll make sure she's alright."

He kissed his daughter on the head and stood up.

"Could you have Jimmy bring my bag down to the front door, Mr Carson ? I'll go and get the car."

"Please ask Baxter to bring my case down too." said Cora. "I'm coming as well."

"What ? You didn't say." asked Robert in surprise.

"You honestly don't think I'd leave Sybil without her mother at a time like this, do you ? You don't mind, do you Tom ?"

"No, of course not, Lady Grantham."

"Tom, you're in no state to drive. Let Pratt take you," said Matthew.

"Ah -" Robert looked uncomfortable. "Pratt has taken Mama into Ripon this afternoon." Cora swung around and stared at him. He shifted under her unspoken accusation and stared into his teacup.

"It's the annual meeting of the Abbey School governors," he offered lamely.

"It's no matter - I'll drive," said Tom, clearly anxious to get going. Mary silent squeezed her husband's hand.

"No you won't. We'll go in the roadster, if you don't mind sitting in the rumble seat, Cousin Cora ? I don't think Tom will fit."

"Of course I don't mind," said Cora, giving Robert another impatient look as she rose from her seat.

"But where will you stay ?" asked Robert.

"I'm sure they have hotels in Sheffield."

"I'll have Mrs Hughes make arrangements for your accommodation, milady, and send Miss Baxter down on the train with the luggage."

Cora inclined her head, grateful for someone who knew how deal with a crisis.

"Thank you, Carson. That would be most helpful."

* * *

><p>Tom and Matthew had fallen out over the best route to take before they were even half way there. Tom had wanted to go across country to pick up what he still called the Great North Road, whereas Matthew intended taking the faster road to York and pick it up there. He remained annoyingly calm and reasonable, and more importantly, in command, which just made Tom even more fractious.<p>

"If you're going to go the long way round, can you at least drive faster ?"

"We're fine, Tom. You do want to arrive in one piece, I take it ?"

Matthew heard his brother-in-law mutter something to himself, but chose to ignore it.

"It won't take us long once now we're past York."

"We'd be past Pontefract by now if you'd listened to me."

Matthew gripped the steering wheel harder and kept his eyes on the road. Glancing in the rear view mirror, he caught sight of Cora perched in the rumble seat behind them. She was hanging on to her hat for dear life.

"Are you alright, Cousin Cora ?" he shouted over his shoulder.

Cora smiled broadly. She was rather hemmed in by the small amount of luggage they had with them, but despite her worries about Sybil she couldn't help enjoying herself. The wind on her face was making her eyes water, but this was so much more fun than being driven around by Pratt. Perhaps, she considered, after Sybil had had the baby, she'd ask Tom to teach her how to drive - then she could get a little roadster of her own, rather like Edith's…

"I'm fine !" she shouted back over the whipping of the wind. "And try not to worry, Tom. Sybil's in good hands."

"I hope so," was all he could mutter in response.

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><p>Much to Tom's irrational vexation Matthew had been right and within the hour they had reached the outskirts of Sheffield. They stopped a policeman on his bicycle to ask for directions and found the hospital easily. Matthew pulled up in front of an ugly Victorian building whose dark red brick looked as if it had never been clean. Sheffield, like Manchester, was a city made wealthy by industry and it wore its grime with pride. Tom had already jumped out and was helping his mother-in-law out of the rumble seat.<p>

"I'll park the car," Matthew told them, "and see you inside."

The entrance hall was a large, gloomy place, its walls shiny with septic green tiles and a ceramic dado the colour of congealed blood. At the back, a heavy red stone staircase branched into the darkness of the floors above. Entrance to the wards was guarded by a huge polished dark wood counter, behind which stood a middle aged nurse with tightly pinned black hair and heavy round glasses. They would have to get past her before they could go anywhere. By now, Tom was getting desperate and Cora gave thanks that the words "Countess of Grantham" would work their usual magic and remove any obstacles they might encounter. The nurse had become flustered and simpering, but she quickly dispatched a junior with a note for Dr Levy. After ten minutes of Tom's frantic pacing, the student nurse was skipping back down the stairs towards them.

"Dr Levy says you're to come with me. Lady Sybil is in the delivery room."

They followed the young nurse up several flights of stairs to a room off of a wide, arching corridor. They found Sybil on her feet grasping the bottom of the bed, whimpering. Another nurse stood by her, holding her by her waist.

"Sybil !"

Tom pushed past the student, only to pull up short a few feet away from his wife, uncertain of what to do. She looked up at him and he took an involuntary step back. She was livid.

"Where the bloody hell have you been ?" she screeched at him. She gave him no chance to answer as she bent over the bed again and let out an almighty groan. Tom's eyes flew wide and he moved beside her, putting a comforting hand on her back.

"Darling, we got here as quickly - "

"Take your hands off me !" she spat at him. His hand recoiled as if he had been burnt. The nurse beside her looked at him as if he was torturing her. Sybil gripped the metal bar harder, closed her eyes and started to pant.

When she looked up again, she saw her mother was standing beside him. The last remnants of her pride and dignity disintegrated completely and she burst into tears.

"Mama ! Oh, Mama, it hurts !"

As if on cue another contraction hit and she sobbed even louder, holding out a hand for her mother. Cora took off her coat, hat and gloves in a calm, businesslike fashion and passed them to Tom and took her daughter's hand.

Sybil turned her bulk slowly so she could sit on the edge of the bed. Her knees splayed outwards in a most unladylike fashion and her teeth clenched in a snarl against the pain. Cora sat down beside her, stroking her damp forehead and pushing the matted hair out of her eyes. She gave her hand a squeeze and Sybil gripped it furiously.

"I can't do this, Mama…"

"Yes, you can, darling. You've done it before."

"But I don't remember !" she cried. "I don't remember anything about the last time !"

"You were very brave. Very brave and very strong." She gave Sybil's hand another comforting squeeze.

"I don't feel brave," Sybil said, wiping her nose with the back of her other hand. Another contraction struck and she screwed up her face silently, willing the pain to go away.

Tom was standing rooted to the spot, still holding Cora's hat and coat and feeling completely helpless.

"What shall I do ?" he asked.

The nurse who had been with Sybil finally took pity on him.

"Perhaps it would be best if you waited in the waiting room, Mr Branson. Doctor will along shortly and will want to examine your wife. You wouldn't want to be in the way, now would you ?" She gestured towards the door and after a brief hesitation, Tom nodded and turned towards it.

"Tom !"

He turned abruptly at the sound of Sybil's tearful voice.

"I'm sorry…."

It took him three strides to be at her side, dropping a kiss on her forehead and wiping away a tear with his thumb.

"It doesn't matter, love."

She looked up into his eyes then, deep pools of stormy blue darkness shining with her tears.

"I love you," he whispered, "and I'll be right on the other side of that door."

She nodded, then her face screwed up with pain again.

"Ah, Mr Branson, Lady Grantham. You've arrived. Good." Dr Levy was peering at both Tom and Cora over the tops of his spectacles. "You'll be more comfortable in the waiting room. I need to examine Mrs Branson and then we'll be preparing for delivery."

Cora stood up.

"I'd like to stay with my daughter, if you don't mind, Dr Levy. I was with her when she had her first baby."

The Doctor held her gaze, his face betraying nothing but his concentration on the job in hand. He nodded to the nurse.

"Please find Lady Grantham a gown and show her how to scrub up," he said shortly. "However, I do insist Mr Branson wait outside. The delivery room is no place for the father."

Tom dropped another kiss on Sybil's head, squeezed her hand and did as he was told.

* * *

><p>The nurse showed him to a small room with a couple of uncomfortable looking chairs further down the corridor. Matthew was waiting for him. He jumped up as soon as he saw Tom, startled by his stunned, somewhat vacant expression.<p>

"How's Sybil ?"

"It won't be long now, I think. The doctor's with her. So is Lady Grantham."

Matthew didn't think he'd ever seen his brother-in-law look so uncertain. His normal self-possession seemed to have completely deserted him. The poor chap must be terrified, he thought. He reached out and gave Tom's shoulder a reassuring pat.

"She's in the best place, Tom. This man is an expert."

"So was the last one, apparently, and look what happened then."

Matthew took a deep breath.

"But this time, you both trust him."

Tom sighed.

"I know. But it doesn't mean that something…."

He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence and looked at his hands, still clutching Cora's cost.

"I can't bear the thought of losing her, Matthew."

"One thing the war taught me was not to worry about things before they happened. It can drive a man mad. Here…."

He rummaged in the pocket of his jacket and drew out a silver hip flask. He unscrewed the top and offered it to Tom, who took it without comment and tipped his head back, before handing it back for Matthew to take a nip himself.

"Thank you, Matthew,"

Matthew smiled,.

"You looked like you needed it."

"No, I mean thank you for everything. For being such a good friend to us. You and Mary both."

"We both married Crawley girls. We need to stick together."

Tom snorted, a laugh that turned dangerously near a sob. An angry scream punched it way through the door from down the corridor making both men look up. All they could do now was wait.

In the end, neither of them could stay put. They migrated from the waiting room to take turns in pacing up and down the corridor, hands in their pockets, as the sounds from the delivery room got louder and increasingly desperate. At one point, Matthew stopped short to look up in alarm as a particularly colourful stream of invective was clearly heard on the other side of the door. He stared at his brother-in-law, his jaw dropping in surprise.

"Don't look at me," Tom said. "She picks that sort of language up at the hospital."

"What on earth is her mother going to think ?"

"I dread to think."

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><p>Several hours dragged by where nothing seemed to change. Eventually the door opened a little and Cora squeezed through, wrapped up in a hospital gown. Tom leapt to his feet.<p>

"I just wanted to tell you that things are moving on. It won't be long now," she smiled.

"How's Sybil ?"

Cora thought for a minute before answering. She'd been simultaneously shocked and amused by her daughter's way of dealing with the pain, which veered rapidly from aggressiveness to frightened little girl. Sybil was not a model patient and had cursed everything in sight, as well as quite a few things that weren't - including her husband. But it made Cora's heart glad as it was so different to Sybbie's birth, when she had been confused and as docile as a lamb. The woman is the delivery room was neither, sending her mother out with instructions to _tell Tom Branson that he's never coming near me again ! _ Cora had decided to ignore that.

"Bearing up," was her laconic reply, before she slipped back between the doors.

It turned out Cora was right. Half an hour later, a baby's high-pitched staccato cries pierced the air. It sounded angry, much as its mother had done a few minutes before. Both men stopped and turned towards the door. Tom gasped.

"Congratulations, Tom." Matthew smiled and held out his hand. Tom had taken a step towards the door. He turned to Matthew, a look of shock on his face as he automatically took his brother-in-law's hand.

"Oh God….. " was all he could say. Last time the birth hadn't been the end of it.

There was another agonising half an hour wait before anyone emerged from the delivery room. Eventually the door swung open and Dr Levy himself appeared. He seemed to be surprised to see the two of them waiting in the corridor.

"Well - congratulations, Mr Branson. You have a daughter." He offered Tom his hand. "A very straightforward delivery in the end. Mother and baby are both doing well."

"Is she going to be alright ? My wife ?"

The young man before him looked a sorry sight. His tie was loose at his collar and his shirt and jacket were dishevelled, making him look as if he had been there all night. From what Dr Levy knew of Sybil's history, he found he couldn't blame him for his anxiety.

"Well, we're not out of the woods yet - but so far, so good. Everything has been very routine. There have been no signs of toxaemia and your wife's blood pressure has returned to normal. We'll keep a very close eye on her for the next few weeks and start treatment as soon as there is the slightest indication of pre-eclampsia. Magnesium sulphate has been very effective in preventing seizures in America. So rest assured we'll take very good care of her."

Tom nodded, still staring past him at the door. Dr Levy wasn't sure he had really heard any of what he had just said.

"You can go and see your wife and daughter now, Mr Branson," he prompted with a kind smile. "Just for a little while."

Tom didn't need telling twice, leaving the doctor and Matthew grinning after him in the corridor.

"Will she be alright ?" asked Matthew as the door swung shut.

Dr Levy nodded.

"Well, one can never be sure, but I certainly hope so. She's been through enough already."

"Yes," agreed Matthew, "she has - they both have."

* * *

><p>Sybil was sitting up cradling a small bundle in a white blanket whilst her mother sat on the edge of the bed beside her. When she heard the door open she looked up and gave him the most radiant smile he swore he'd ever seen.<p>

"Hello," he smiled back.

"Come and see your daughter. She's gorgeous," she said.

And indeed she was. She was dozing close to Sybil's breast, eyes nearly closed and tiny fists splayed by her shoulders, drowsy with her first feed. He slipped beside Sybil on the other side of the bed, taking her in. Sybil was stroking her little arm gently with a finger, completely absorbed by her. She looked up and smiled at him again and he could see that this was not like Sybbie's birth. She looked tired, but unlike last time, her eyes were bright and she seemed_ just like Sybil_.

"Are you - are you alright ?" he blurted out.

She lseemed unable to stop smiling.

"I think so. I'm very, very tired, but I feel…_.normal. _I haven't got a headache and the doctor says my blood pressure and albumin levels are fine."

He lent over and dropped a slow kiss on her forehead, before gently pulling them both towards him.

Cora rose discretely.

"I'll give you two some time together. She's a lovely baby, darling. I'm so proud of you."

Cora closed the door gently and they were alone. Relief began to wash over Tom and they sat in silence for a while, content just to take in every little move and murmur the new baby made.

"She's bigger than Sybbie was,"

Sybil nodded, her eyes not moving from her daughter, simply unable to stop looking at her.

"And she's got so much hair !"

Indeed, she did have a shock of fine dark hair, thicker than Sybbie's had been. She opened her eyes, blinking as if trying to get the hang of it, then gave up and closed them again. He felt his heart tighten with love and his eyes start to moisten.

"Here," said Sybil, carefully moving the drowsy baby so that he could take her. She opened her eyes properly and stared at her father for a while, fixing him with her curious gaze before screwing up her face and starting to cry, her little hands rigid and flailing. He held her tight to his chest and shushed her gently. She started to quieten down, lulled by the sound of his voice.

When he married Sybil, he'd thought it impossible to love another person as much as he loved her. But then Sybbie came along and his heart found room for her too. Then when Sybil was carrying this baby, he'd worried that he wouldn't be able to love her as much as his first born, but now he held her in his arms he knew that was impossible. She'd already found her place in his heart and she didn't even have a name yet.

"We need to give her a name, poor little thing."

It was as if Sybil has read his mind. They'd both steered clear of doing anything to prepare for this baby before the birth, even to the point of discussing names, so she was destined to remain Baby Branson as far as the hospital was concerned for a while yet. He looked down at the bundle in his arms. Dr Levy had said that they weren't out of the woods yet, but this felt different - Sybil was herself and he could feel himself beginning to hope that this time, things _would_ be alright. He looked up into his wife's bright, exhausted face.

"They'll be plenty of time for that tomorrow."


End file.
